


Knowing

by Pande



Category: Avengers, Black Widow - Fandom, Hawkeye - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pande/pseuds/Pande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was a prompt given to me by theyoungwinchester on Tumblr. I’ve never written Clint or Natasha (and I really don’t remember much of Clint’s personality. ;3; I’ve only seen the Avengers once.). I really, really hope that I did them justice… but I have a feeling that I didn’t.</p>
<p>There is brief mention of Super Husbands and Peter.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt given to me by theyoungwinchester on Tumblr. I’ve never written Clint or Natasha (and I really don’t remember much of Clint’s personality. ;3; I’ve only seen the Avengers once.). I really, really hope that I did them justice… but I have a feeling that I didn’t.
> 
> There is brief mention of Super Husbands and Peter.

“Clint, have you seen m—-” her voice was tight with irritation.

“Left, above your head.” His voice was calm, level. Nearly emotionless.

Natasha glanced towards him, he smiled cheerily and waved as she grabbed her brush from it’s new location. _Every. Freaking. Day._ The house was different, like he enjoyed tormenting her by moving all of their stuff around. She had learned to be flexible, it was in his nature to challenge himself. And her it seemed. The only constant in living with the ‘hawk was change. Always changing. _Irritating little shit_ , she thought darkly.

She turned to look at him once again, he was sitting on the bookshelf. It was lucky they had high ceilings in their apartment. She rolled her eyes and went about brushing out her bright red hair. She smoothed out her rich violet shirt and did a small turn. “Looks good?” She asked him.

“Yeah, as always.” there was a smile on Clint’s face as he watched her. But other than that, his expressions remained the same. No change.

“Well, come on bird-boy, we’ve got a party to crash.” She tossed him a grin and grabbed her back. Two seconds later she was making sure that her guns and knives were fashioned in a manner that blended with her body. For all intensive purposes, she was wearing a dark skirt with a light purple top. It was simple, elegant, and didn’t limit her movement. Just her style. Efficient.

Romanoff turned to look over her shoulder at the soft  _thunk_  of Barton’s boots hitting the ground. She smiled as he slipped a hand around her waist. “You look very good, reminds me of that time in Marrakech. Do you remember?” he asked, his eyes dancing with laughter.

She chuckled and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Of course I remember. I also remember that being the day you needed my help to disguise yourself.” She informed him, he shook his head.

“It was an undercover operation, Romanov.  _IF_  I find out you’ve breathed one word of it to the others…” his voice trailed off, his arm tightened around her waist dangerously. His voice had even lower an octave, his brows furrowed. He didn't need to finish the rest of the sentence. In fact, between the two of them, half sentences were more common than complete ones. There was a natural bond between the two of them, which allowed many things to go unspoken, but completely understood.

Natasha just laughed, loudly. “Oh, come on Barton. You did make a very attractive woman.” She poked him lightly on the nose and Clint’s face broke out into a wide grin, “But I promise, I won’t breath a word to our superhero friends that you liked the silk panties.  _IF_ ,” she paused, looking him full in the eyes, “You promise to quit moving everything around while I’m asleep.”

He had the decency to look mildly embarrassed about that. “I can’t help it, it’s so fun to watch you stumble about in the morning.” he yelped when she prodded him roughly in the ribcage with her elbow. “Ow! That hurt, Romanov. You’ve got some pointy elbows.” he joked and then jumped forward when she moved to shank him with her body again. He smiled, for anyone else it would have looked out of character. But Tasha knew Barton. Inside and out, all his demons, all his hurt. His family, his lovers, everything. She knew him more intimately than most people knew their lovers. Sometimes it felt like they shared a skin. Two halves of the same broken, rusted coin.

She gave him a sassy smile before walking towards the door, “You bet it hurt. You got off easy,” she teased, leaning forward and grabbing him by one of his lapels. She kissed him lightly on the mouth, “Now, come on before we’re late. You know Tony will never let us hear the end of it and I want to make sure he’s not tormenting Bruce too much.”

“Or that Thor is drinking again, remember what happened last time?” Barton piped in with a laugh. “I think he nearly took out the foundation of Stark’s tower. I thought Tony was going to put his new Hulk Controller suit on - what did he call it again?

"It's Stark, you never know." Tasha’s mouth tightened in thought, “Yeah, let’s go. Since Coulson’s not around anymore… we have to watch the kids. It’s the least I can do for him.” Her expression slipped from it’s normal calm exterior to sorrow. Phil had been a good man, she’d known him for years. He was easily the funniest man she’d ever had the fortune to meet. She could still remember him going on and on about how his favorite hero was Steve Rogers. Her eyes teared up in that moment. It hurt so much having a new handler, more than any of the Avengers would ever let on - even Tony. Natasha suspected that out of all of them, Steve felt his death the most. Thor grieved openly, his own brother had slain him. She kept looking down at the ground and sighed softly.

Suddenly, strong arms were wrapped around her and she allowed herself to place her head on his shoulder. Clint just held her. He’d known Phil just as long, but not as well. He didn’t really know anyone but Fury and Tasha. He hadn’t particularly made it a point to know, just observe. So he didn’t say anything, just held his redhead close. It was humbling to know that a woman as strong as the Black Widow occasionally needed such emotional support. But he knew her, as stupid and pathetic as it was to say over and over, and over again, he  _knew_  her. Inside and out. So he could always tell when Natasha was on the verge of tears, but held them in. Like right now.

That was why he respected her so much.

When she pulled away, he let her. You didn’t hold onto a woman like Natasha Romanoff. You let her do her own thing. When she needed the support, she would ask - not with words, but a movement. An eye shift, an arm grab. Small things that only she would do. Most people wouldn’t pick up on it. But Barton always did. It was his professional habit to watch, learn and understand. So he knew what a chin lift meant, what she was feeling when she stepped first with her left instead of her right leg. He cared so much about her that he watched her.

Always.

“Thanks,” Tasha said quietly and then the Agent was back. Smooth exterior with just a hint of playful banter in her eyes. “Now, let’s go show Stark exactly who is in charge of this party.”

“Tasha, try to remember it  _is_  their first anniversary of being parents. Go easy on them for now. You know how much a handle young Peter is.” He reminded her smoothly, opening the door of their apartment and motioning for her to go out first. "And they do love him."

“Oh fine.” She mumbled under her breath, “I’ll behave if Stark behaves. He just manages to get under my skin sometimes,” she swore softly. Then she smiled. It was rare for someone to annoy her - it was nearly impossible for her to notice anyone. And yet Stark had made such an impression.

Clint’s eyes crinkled, “I thought I was the only one who could do that.” He teased carefully. Teasing Natasha was like playing with fire.  _Living_ fire. Living fire that could hold a grudge.

She shoved him, “You are, he’s more like a tick. Or an earwig.” She gave a shudder. “Maybe a leach. I will never understand what Steve sees in that man. Ever.” She paused. “Do you think it would’ve broken Phil’s heart to know that his favorite hero had ended up with his most frequent babysitting client?” She smiled sadly, lost in thought. Her hands were on the open door, sne turned to look at Clint. She saw the far away look in his eyes, then the nod. She smiled and reached out a hand to stroke the side of his face. 

“Probably,” Barton agreed. “He’d have to start collecting Iron Man items. And you know how much Tony put out on the market."

She shook her head slowly from side to side. Finally she stepped outside, Barton followed like a shadow - or a hawk. They didn't lock their door. People in their block knew to leave their propery alone. Granted, it had taken several broken fingers and casts, but a lesson had been learned.

In fifteen minutes they’d walked 8 blocks, only 3 away from Stark Tower. It was because they were enjoying the night sky - what they could see of it anyway. Briefly, Natasha longed for their missions around the world. To go somewhere so she could see the sky, the stars - the moon. That romantic moon. She turned away from Clint, hearing him stop, hesitating.

“Clint…. do you love me?” her voice was quiet. A whisper. A moment of doubt in the darkness. She hid her face and front on the shadows.

He slipped a hand under hers and laced his fingers with her own. “You know I do, Natasha. Always.”

“Why… after all I’ve done…” her voice was still weak. Vulnerable.

Clint stopped her and pulled her off to the side. He tilted her face up in the lamplight and looked into her beautiful eyes, “Natasha. You are the most clever, sexy, seductive, charming, devilish, tricky woman I know. I love every inch of you, now and for the foreseeable future.” He looked away, “But the real question, is do you love me?”

She cupped his face with her free hand. “Clint… yes, yes I do. I love you. You put up with me all the time. Even if you move the furniture and drive me insane. I love you, Clint Barton.” She leaned in and kissed him delicately on the lips. They knew what they felt, but until this moment had never spoken about it. Clint because he knew never to push Natasha, and Natasha had never said anything because she hated to admit she loved the "mushy, mushy" stuff. It scared her, it was almost like she was human.

He nodded, “Good, now, let’s go crash that party.”

And they did.


End file.
